Dichotomy of a Bird Song

Hi Everyone,

2014 has arrived! I want to wish you, my readers, the very best. Thank you for your support. I hope that you stay healthy and happy and that you prosper and grow in all aspects of your lives while following your bliss. In my heart, I pray for planetary peace.

A peaceful dawn
(Photo courtesy Christine Matthäi

This year was a milestone for The Last Daughter of Prussia. After years of research and writing, the book was published. My gratitude to Wild River Books for helping me birth the novel into the world and to Joy Stocke and Kim Nagy for their creative ideas, brilliant editing, constant support and follow through in the PR arena. It was a busy travel year for me with many book signings in the north eastern USA as well as California. The novel was celebrated in Los Angeles via an amazing party organized by my generous friends, Leonid Minkowski and Linda Marlin. Their kindness has brought the story to the attention of people in the film industry. Fingers crossed.

My friend Linda and me at the party
in Los angeles

A pic of the party which was so elegant
and well thought out by my generous friends

As I reflect on the dawn of this new year, my thoughts travel back in time to what it was like in East Prussia at the beginning of January 1945 when my story takes place. Beside my keyboard lies an open book written by my grandfather, Walter von Sanden, in which he describes the Trek through the snow and wintry landscape as he and my grandmother fled the invading Russian Army. I want to share a few excerpts which I will translate from German to English. I hope do his writing justice.

Just a little paragraph of my grandfather's handwriting.
This is not from the book I'm translating, but it is a
prayer that he once wrote.
Some of the words say:
Dear God, I know that you are love.
Everywhere, everywhere, I feel your presence…
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)

Excerpt:
… Moving with us in a long column are many sad people, exhausted horses, creaking wagons and worn out prisoners of war. The sky is gray. The endless stretch of ice before us is gray. Our lives are gray. On the howling wind an old hymn reaches my ears: "I call on the power of love which reveals itself in Jesus.…". And then a folk song:  "Be patient my soul, for a new spring follows every winter…". It is my wife whose voice rises above the suffering around us and inside us. Forehead pressed to the wind, she pushes through the snow singing songs about faith in God.

My grandmother Edith von Sanden
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)

There is a long passage following this one which describes their journey across the frozen Frisches Haff lagoon— it corroborates what I wrote in my book. After several days of heartbreaking, gruesome sights they make it on to the Nehrung, the thin strip of land that leads to Danzig.

The trek

Here my grandfather continues:
… The road is far too narrow for the amount of traffic it needs to contain. The wagons come to a grinding halt. There must be some kind of obstacle in front of us. Suddenly, we are overtaken by speeding cars. Our hands shake as we stand terrified on the slippery ice. I look inside the passing vehicles that honk at my nerves. I see the Powerful Ones—the so-called leaders—warm and dry in their leather seats—and my thoughts turn bitter with rage. Again we move. It is a cruel and hard trek. My wife's strength is failing.

Exhausted, we finally arrive at the first arm of the Vistula River. The ferry is still sailing. We find a spot between another wagon and some horses. Chunks of ice float on the river's current. The air, gray and wintry, lies over the water and the land. The Russians are a dangerous threat here too. Our escape route lies parallel between their front and the Baltic coast and we must tarry here for quite a while longer.

My grandparents did make it to the other shore and then Grandfather wrote…
The roar of cannons is always present.The high road we are on runs through the flat countryside which is bare, except for the silent linden trees that stretch their wet, black branches to the heavens. Oh! What's that? A cheery birdsong—a brief, little verse, repeated only twice. "Much too early, much too early," a titmouse warbles as it flits to the upper limbs of a dark tree.

A Tufted Titmouse
(Photo Wikipedia)

I trudge on as if in a dream and find my soul at home again. I'm coming from the lake, along the well-worn path that runs beside the bubbling brook high with spring water. I'm carrying my fishing nets and turn toward the park, into the alley lined with linden trees that my grandmother planted. I stop and hang my nets to dry in the sun. The catkins on the hazelnut trees swing in the breeze…the  titmice sing…the soil is rich and black. 

The park in Guja, East Prussia
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)

The river that ran past the house in
East Prussia
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)

My grandfather preparing to go fishing
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)

Spring is coming! Spring is coming! Soon it will burst forth in all its beauty as it only does here at home….But then, I return to harsh reality. I am plodding through the snow and now  the titmouse sings, "Nevermore, nevermore. Nevermore will you go home."

The house in Guja as my grandparents left it
in January 1945 when the Russian Army was
invading.
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family

Those words, written so long ago in the middle of a bitter winter, led me to think about my grandparents, who, at the dawn of a new year, faced death with every coming day. How good my life is, how quiet and sunny and abundant compared to theirs 69 years ago when they fled East Prussia through snowdrifts and sleet with bullets flying at their backs. How grateful I am never to have known that kind of terror or the need to stay vigilant in order to survive.

I sit here at my desk in a state of relaxation overlooking the Bahamian sea. Outside the mockingbirds whistle their lively tunes from the silver buttonwood trees. A yellow crowned night heron on the prowl for a crab, squawks impatiently when the gardener disturbs him. And oh! 'What's that? A tiny yellow breasted banana quit has come to sit on my window sill and is chirping a tiny, high-pitched verse—"tsip, trip,"that sounds more like" peace, peace." I pause to reflect upon the meaning this bird's song has for me…It's very different from what my grandfather heard because, unlike him,  I am not gripped by the cruel hard hand of war. I wish the whole world were free of guns and hatred and fighting. I wish we could all hear the birds sing a song of peace.

A little kingfisher.
 My grandfather was an ornithologist
who took a legacy of photos before the war.
He loved birds.
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)

A photo he took of a little ringed plover.
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)

'Til next time….

—Marina Gottlieb Sarles

(c) All content and photos are the private property of the Gottlieb family, unless otherwise stated or linked,  and may not be used without permission.

(c) Privatbesitz Gottlieb Familie

Casting Characters

The Last Daughter of Prussia was inspired by writings and stories I gathered from my family, but there were also many images that breathed life, heart and substance into the novel. Along the way, in this blog, I have shared quite a number of photos with you. If it's true that a picture says a thousand words then I need not write as many today except perhaps to explain how certain images gave form to the storyline and the characters in it.

Let me start with some of the CHARACTERS who evolved in my imagination as I researched old photos, diaries and books...

It all began with this image of  the famous Trakehner Fetysz Ox.

Fetysz Ox was tragically shot by the invading Russian Army at the close of WW2.

However, because of him I started thinking about a story involving an adventurous woman who

wanted to save her beloved Trakehners from the same terrible fate.

I turned to my grandfather Walter von Sanden's books
to find out more about what happened during the invasion.
The story started to unfold in my mind as I realized my own family
had lived through the nightmare of the Great Trek.
In my book, the character Baron von Falken
has a great deal in common with my grandfather.
I incorporated the story of his arrest by the Nazis into one of the chapters.
The Nazis thought he was an accomplice
 to the July 20th assassination attempt on Hitler.
(In my novel the baron wears the same green hunting jacket!)
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)

 Blacksmith Helling is a main character in the book
 and he is also a great hunter.
This pic is actually of a man named Hellwig— the forester who lived
 on my grandparent's estate in Guja, East Prussia
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)

 Baroness von Falken plays a big role too.
In The Last Daughter she is a sculptress
with a difficult personality—moody and depressed.
This pic is of my grandmother Edith von Sanden in her art studio
 in Guja, East Prussia before the war.
She really was an artist
 and though not nearly as complicated as my novel's baroness,
for as long as I knew her, she walked with a definite air of melancholy.
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)

Manya von Falken
In the story, she is the bright, spirited horsewoman and heroine whose courage
leads her family and her Trakehners on the dangerous  trek.
 Much of her character is based on the strength and outspoken boldness
that I saw in my own mother, Owanta von Sanden who is depicted in this photo.
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)

Joshi Karas
In my story, he is the son of Roma Gypsies.
He is a musically gifted and educated hero.
While researching information on Gypsies in the Third Reich,
I came across this photo of Karl Stojka a gypsy
 who was deported to the Nazi camp in Birkenau along with thousands of
other Gypsies, most of whom were gassed to death. Thankfully, he survived.
I hope he didn't mind me using his likeness as an inspiration.

Shambhala
The mare in the novel truly is a Last Daughter of Prussia.
She is brave, enduring and loyal until the end.
Her mission is to take her human family across the ice.
 Never  once does she stop to consider whether those she struggles so hard
 to carry are German, Jewish, Gypsy or Russian.
There is no prejudice in her.
 She is pure of heart and cares only about survival.
The horse in his picture is actually a stallion (Pregel)
but he has such a sensitive, intelligent face and
when I see him I think of Shambhala.
(The photo was taken from Erhard Schulte's fabulous book—Trakehnens Pferde.)

Aztec

is my Trakehner stallion hero. 

Unlike Fetysz ox above who inspired the story, Aztec is jet black.

He is spirited and courageous beyond words
 and his role is pivotal in The Last Daughter of Prussia.
 (Again this pic was kindly shared by Erhard Schulte. It is the stallion Flaneur.)

Before I go, I want to say that there are other characters. Every story of this kind must have an antagonist or more simply said a villain. My villain's name is Golitsin. Although, I don't have a picture of him I clearly see him in my mind's eye. You'll just have to read the novel when it is published to get your own idea of what he is like.

Until next time,

Marina Gottlieb Sarles

(c) All content and photos are the private property of the Gottlieb family, unless otherwise stated or linked,  and may not be used without permission.

(c) Privatbesitz Gottlieb Familie

The Peace of Wild Things

A few evenings ago when I was in state of inner turmoil, I read this poem.

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear for what my life and my children's lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. 

I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time 

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Wendell Berry

The peaceful world of East Prussia before WW2
(C) Photo Gottlieb Property

  The magic of a peaceful world so eloquently expressed, led me to remember where true stillness lies. Closing the door to my home, I went down to the water to "rest in the grace" of the ocean's waves lapping against the shore.

  As I sat on the beach lost in a world of problems, a school of blue runners swam past, their silvery sides flashing like coins in the last rays of the fast setting Bahamian sun. How alive they were! How free and ready to jump and flip and change directions. How "untaxed by forethought of grief."

Blue Runners

 Watching them, something of their natural essence was transmitted to me. I had the sudden feeling that their beauty was drawing me out of my mental quagmire. As the disquiet in my mind subsided, I thought about my grandparents and what they must have felt during the war "when the despair of world grew inside them" and they "feared for what their lives and the lives of their children might be."


  From reading my grandfather Walter von Sanden's diary, I know that near the end of the war, on January 22nd 1945, just before embarking on the great trek that would forever take him and my grandmother away from their beloved home in Guja, East Prussia,  he too awoke in the night and went down to the water.

My grandfather by the water
(C) Photo Gottlieb Property

  Standing at the edge of the lake with a heart full of grief, he listened for the sounds of nature—the rustle of dry leaves in the winter wind, the soft crunch of a rabbit's paws on the snowy path beneath the linden trees. Waiting for dawn, he watched the sun rise, its first rays touching the reeds that lined the shore. Beyond the far embankment, the snow blanketed fields of the estate stretched out before him. He swallowed hard, knowing he would never again stand in that familiar stillness on the land he so dearly loved.  

 Great Crested Grebe with her eggs—this photograph
was taken by my grandfather in Guja, East Prussia long before the war.
He was well-known for his photographs and books about nature.
The environment was his passion.
(C) Photo Gottlieb Property

  Nevertheless, he felt embraced by what he saw, empowered even—despite the dire worldly circumstances, enemy gunfire moving ever closer—by an intelligence greater than his own. Only nature could imbue him with this kind of strength. The stillness outside in the trees and the lake, in the rocks and the earth, made it possible for him to access the realm of stillness inside. From him I learned that when humans become still, truly still, they go beyond thought. This is nature's gift to mankind. In nature's solace, the great troublemaker of arising thoughts is quieted and we are returned to faith and God and the sacred mystery.

Guja, East Prussia
(C) Photo Gottlieb Property

  My grandfather was a naturalist.  He was fully present in the world of plants, birds, animals and other natural forms of beauty. I am grateful for this sacred understanding that was passed down through the generations, first to his daughter Owanta—my mother— and then on to me. It has helped me move through life's difficulties with a kind of deep-rooted trust drawn from another dimension, one that is not visible yet clearly exists in the peaceful dignity of a flower, the strength of a tree, the innocence of a bird. Furthermore, his wisdom helped me write The Last Daughter of  Prussia.

My mother Owanta Gisela von Sanden as a little girl in Guja
(C) Photo Gottlieb Property

  When he and my grandmother fled Guja that night, they looked up at the waxing moon and "the day-blind stars." For the last time, they closed the heavy oak door to their home, leaving behind all personal belongings, all objects of sentimental value. Taking just their bicycles, they set off on the dangerous journey. A flock of cranes was passing overhead. They pedaled on, carrying with them the thought of survival and knowing that like the birds, they were free "for a time" of all earthly attachments.

The house in Guja as they left it in winter

(C) Photo Gottlieb Property

Until next time...

–Marina Gottlieb Sarles

c) All content and photos are the private property of the Gottlieb family, unless otherwise stated or linked,  and may not be used without permission.

(c) Privatbesitz Gottlieb Familie

More from the Two Worlds - East Prussia and The Bahamas

  A short while ago I promised to post a few more photographs from the two worlds – East Prussia and The Bahamas – that have molded both my inner and outer existence, but I also want to say that it is from the unseen depths of these worlds that my book The Last Daughter of Prussia was wrought.

  I was born into family of storytellers who gifted me with their history. For that I am grateful. But my family were spiritual people too. They walked close to the earth. They taught me that nature is holy and that communion with God can be found in the emanation of a plant's stillness just as easily as in the loud roar of the sea.

  Nature has sustained me throughout life. For me, there is a wisdom in nature that brings with it the ability to be still. It is that same stillness that has empowered me to write.

                                                         Waters of Both Worlds

On the River Angerapp
My grandfather Walter von Sanden is seated in the back of the boat.
My great grandmother Magdalena is near the front.
Grossvati had a deep love for the river – for every fish that swam beneath the ripples
 and every bird that was mirrored in the water's surface.
My heroine Manya in The Last Daughter of Prussia also possesses a deep reverence for the river and for nature.

On the Bahamian Sea
The vast stretches of turquoise water are like a warm inviting embrace,
holding and permeating the spirit with beauty and pure silken awareness.
In the Bahamas, the sea is my place of refuge, my sacred moving meditative altar.

                                                              Fishing in Both Worlds

Blacksmith Buttgereit of the Guja estate in East Prussia fishing by the Angerapp River long before the war.
He showed my mother Owanta how to use rods and nets.
 When the river was frozen he taught her how to read the ice like the pages of a holy book.
In my novel the character Helling is largely based upon this man. 

My father Ejnar Gottlieb in 1949 with his bounty after spearfishing in the Bahamian ocean.

My son Nikolai with his catch of crawfish which are actually spiny lobsters.
They taste great with just butter and lemon.
Through the generations of my family the principle of fishing for  food
while still respecting nature has been passed down.

                                                                            Birds

Swallows nested in the barn in Guja.
They knew that the horses would not harm them, neither would the stable lads.
My grandfather took this photograph of a parent swallow feeding its hungry babies.
Like these nestlings we depend on nature for our physical survival but I think nature gives us much more than that.
It shows us the way home. Every animal it totally itself. It doesn't wear a mask or try to  project a mental image of itself.
It simply is.

My grandmother Edith von Sanden in East Prussia with her tame raven - the model for her bronze sculpture below.
In my novel I call him Meister Eckhart.

Meister Eckhart
This bronze is exhibited in the East Prussian Museum in Lüneburg, Germany.
It won the gold medal for the international Art in Hunting Exhibition in 1954.

Photo by Christine Matthai
One of the many hummingbirds that grace my Bahamian garden.
Darting here and there they always make me feel as if I'm glimpsing spirit.
And like them, something in my soul wants to hover  at the beautiful moments of life.

(c) All content and photos are the private property of the Gottlieb family, unless otherwise stated or linked,  and may not be used without permission.

(c) Privatbesitz Gottlieb Familie

Roma Gypsies: The Forgotten Holocaust

Roma Wagon

    
    The idea to introduce gypsies into my novel came to me one morning several years ago as I was reading my grandfather, Walter von Sanden's, book Schicksal OstPreussen  'East Prussia's Destiny ' (LandBuch Verlag, 1968).  I was fascinated to learn about the Roma gypsies who lived just west of the Guja forest and with whom my grandparents were friendly. 


    My grandmother, Edith, was especially close with a gypsy woman named Frau Florian. Frau Florian would often visit her and they would sit in the drawing room in Guja drinking coffee, which I understand Frau Florian loved to drink very sweet.

The drawing room in Guja

    Sometimes the two women would wander outside to the garden benches near the big black poplar tree where they’d sit for hours talking about their different lifestyles and customs. Grossmutti, as I used to call my grandma, truly cared about Frau Florian. Frau Florian taught her about the Roma culture, about music and dance, and spices for cooking. When winters were cold and money was scarce, my grandmother gave her food and money for her family. Horses from the Roma camp wandered about my grandfather's meadows, grazing freely.  

The garden in Guja

    Forester Hellwig, whom you see below, guarded the Guja forest like a hawk, yet for the camp of Roma who made their home on the edge of that woods, the land was theirs to gather berries and hunt for fowl. And, while Hellwig insisted they must never light fires too close to the trees, they always had bundles of wood for their stoves. The Roma and my grandparents were neighbors, living off the same land in very different ways.

Forester Hellwig

   
 But liking gypsies in those times was heavily frowned upon, and as the Nazis gained more power their hostility toward that minority group grew more violent. Soon gypsies were seen as ‘asocial’ and as ‘subhuman beings.’ The collaboration to exterminate another so-called inferior race began. It is estimated that 1.5 million Roma were murdered from 1935 to the end of WWII. 

    Unprejudiced as she was, my grandmother did not care about anti-gypsy laws. When Frau Florian was sick she went to see her with freshly baked Semmelbrötchen (rolls). If she found the gypsy woman in bed under a thick eiderdown, Grossmutti would make a hollow in the feathery blanket and empty out the bag of rolls. Of course, Frau Florian's children would all be standing by the door waiting with wide eyes  for the delicious buns to manifest.

     But then one night, the inevitable happened. All the gypsies disappeared. They were either shot or carted off to a concentration camp. My grandfather went to the police to inquire about them, but he was told that associating with gypsies was a terrible crime and that he’d be shot if he asked any more questions. 

    Grossmutti never saw Frau Florian again. My grandfather writes that she cried for days. All that remained of Frau Florian was a sculpture my grandmother had made of the gypsy woman's daughter, and that too was lost in the war.

Gypsy History 

    Reading my grandfather's words, I felt a deep and painful stirring inside. It dawned on me that the Roma gypsies were part of a 'forgotten' holocaust and I wanted somehow to bring their silenced voices to life. That is how I chose the gypsy (Joshi Karas) as the hero in my novel. Although in the story he breaks with Roma tradition to become a medical doctor (and you have to read the book to discover how this happens because gypsies were definitely NOT allowed to study in Germany), he is a man whose voice and strength of character, serve to illuminate the collective soul of an unusual and gifted people whose lives were brutally cut short.

Karl Stojka

    
While I was researching the internet I came across this picture of a gypsy victim.  His sensitive face and intelligent, direct gaze coupled with the readiness to smile touched my heart and stayed with me throughout the entire time that I was writing the novel. In some ways, he inspired and helped breath life into Joshi's character.


    Frau Florian too plays an important role in The Last Daughter of Prussia - only there her name is Vavara and her voice is like a lark's echoing tales of spirits and Baltic amber back to us through time. If you have a moment, listen to what I believe was her favorite song. Although there are no words in this you tube version of Dark Eyes, the music and the child's hauntingly beautiful face tell us all we need to know....

(c) All content and photos are the private property of the Gottlieb family, unless otherwise stated or linked,  and may not be used without permission.

(c) Privatbesitz Gottlieb Familie

Out of Prussia: My family

My grandfather, Walter von Sanden,
well known author and environmentalist

My grandmother, Edith von Sanden, well-known sculptress.
Those are some of her pieces behind her.

    When writing my historical novel, a work of fiction based on my family's real experiences in East Prussia during World War II, my grandparents served as studies for the story's characters. 

    Their story begins in the dead of one wintry night when they must make a terrifying and raw flight from their home in East Prussia. Theirs is a history many families share. I write to tell of how a proud man and his wife, an artistic woman suffering from severe depression, must make their way, with thousands of others, through the ice forest of East Prussia to safety.

- Marina Gottlieb Sarles

(c) All content and photos are the private property of the Gottlieb family, unless otherwise stated or linked,  and may not be used without permission.

(c) Privatbesitz Gottlieb Familie

The Horses That Inspired

My mother, Owanta, and her Trakehner horse, Dandy 

One night, some 4-5 years ago I woke up at 4am. (4 am is often a portal for me for other worldly things, meditations and visions). For some time before, I had been hearing an insistent voice in both my head and my heart telling me to write a book. I had no idea what I was supposed to write about. I kept asking, "What do you want me to write? Tell me and I try to do it." 

But the voice always went quiet. 

Anyway, that night the same voice told me to get out of bed, go to my computer and research  East Prussia. I followed the guidance and somehow Fetysz Os ended up on my screen. I fell in love with him right away - who wouldn't?  But then, sadly I learned that he had been shot, in cold blood, by the Russians when they invaded East Prussia and arrived in the famous "City of Horses" in Trakehnen.  

I cried to know that his death had taken place simply because he belonged to Germans. As I sat there I realized something else. My grandparents, Walter and Edith von Sanden lived just a few miles away from Trakehnen on their own estate in a place called Guja. My mother Owanta had her own Trakehner horses. A bold and self-possessed woman, she rode everywhere on her favorite horse, Dandy. 

Fetysz Ox - The fantastic Trakehner Stallion 

who caught my eye on the internet.

Well....right then and there, the story line for The Last Daughter of Prussia began to unfold. I thought - okay - I'll write a story about an East Prussian woman who flees her land and saves her beloved Trakehner horses. I had no idea what I was getting into. I once read quote that said "In a weak moment, I decided to write a book." 

Well that was me. 

-Marina Gottlieb Sarles

(c) All content and photos are the private property of the Gottlieb family, unless otherwise stated or linked,  and may not be used without permission.

(c) Privatbesitz Gottlieb Familie